


Peek-a-Boo! ( can't see you ) [Hiatus]

by hvimang



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band), 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Magic, Ghost!Seungkwan, Hansol is a sweetheart, Jihoon is just tired of all this bullshit, Junhao are so in love, Just wait 4 the others coff coff, Kitten!Jimin, M/M, Mingyu is a tall clumsy beagle, Multi, Oh snap the bulletproof bois, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Seungkwan is sassy as hell, Slow Build, Slow Burn, and a dummy, familiar!jimin, florist!Hansol, witch!yoongi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-25
Updated: 2017-11-18
Packaged: 2019-01-23 03:16:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12497460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hvimang/pseuds/hvimang
Summary: Hansol couldn't stop thinking about the fact that the phantom just wanted to warn him... or, why not, jinx him. But he tried to keep a straight face, to show the others that no, he wasn't afraid-- but guess what, he really was. Shift after shift, the ghost was trying to communicate with them, and they were all muttering the letters while the glass was on them.N - E - V - E - R.Yeah, but never what? "Never mess with me"? " Never do stuff like that"?  "Never think / call bullshit on sessions of ouija"?G - O - N - N - A.Yeah, dying. Hansol was pretty sure he was gonna die that day, killed by a spirit. Not a great death, he thought, but at least he had lived a great life. Short, but awesome.G - I - V - E.Y - O - U«...up,» he muttered, a little bit shocked, as the last two letters were written on the board. Shocked, yes, yet amused. «This fucking ghost just rickrolled us.»( or, Seungkwan is dead and Hansol just wants to touch him. )





	1. Of Luigi Boards and nakedness

**Author's Note:**

> YOO-HOO first work ever, I crave deathioli  
> please don't kill me i won't provide you your daily verkwan / junhao content, english is not my first language ;v;  
> BUT I WILL TRY MY BEST OK??  
> unfortunately the updates will be monthly, that's my last year of school and yeah, I just want to kms  
> so, yeah, enjoy!! 
> 
>  
> 
> [Taengememe](https://twitter.com/taengememe)

Hansol was an ordinary boy. Born in New York, he had lived in the Big Apple for a little while and had moved to Korea with his family when he was five. Common black hair, common dark eyes, a strange similarity to Leonardo di Caprio when he was younger; but yeah, an ordinary boy: he loved his music, he loved his little job as a florist and he loved his weird bunch of friends (like, they were eleven big ass nerds, how could you not love them?).

 

He met them in high school, when one of them, Mingyu, black hair, big beagle smile and longest legs ever, stepped on his sandwich during lunch. Hansol was so surprised that his jaw almost fell off.

 

«Sorry!» the tall guy almost screamed, looking at what remained of the poor sandwich (food first) and, only after, at the shocked boy's face. «I'll buy you another one, I promise!»

 

So Mingyu had grabbed Hansol's wrist and they had gone at full speed at the cafeteria, sat down in the most crowded table and started talking. Eleven guys to meet, eleven new faces to remember and eleven names that he thought he would have never memorize: Junhui (tall, slender, handsome) and Minghao (a walking noodle) were chinese, probably dating; Jihoon (small, grumpy) and Soonyoung (loud as hell), kind of like Tom and Jerry, Chan (protect him) was their son or something like that-- same went for Jeonghan (for a second he had misgendered him) and Seungcheol (can lips be that red?), the parents of that weird crew. Jisoo (half american like him!) and Wonwoo (mr. beanie) were the silent duo, always listening but never talking, or almost. Seokmin just screamed, but his smile was pure sunshine. Adorable.

 

So, yeah, a lot of weird people. He thought he would have never befriended them, too many people in the same place, a lot of strange guys-- too much different from one another. But, yet again, he had been wrong.

 

They had become friends in, like, four minutes (Hansol almost fell off his chair when Wonwoo, Mingyu's boyfriend, smacked his arm with full force after hearing how they met) and they still were, even though school had ended and university and work were a pain in the ass.

 

Still, they managed to find a little time for themselves, still trying to meet every weekend for a movie night or a dance/rap off (Soonyoung and Seungcheol's idea, bless them). Yeah, still ordinary, as ordinary as they could be. Different hairstyles, same bunch of idiots. But then, it was then that it had all started; all the weird stuff that had made Hansol and his weird little gang a little bit less ordinary (and a lot more extra, as if it were possible).  
  


 

_It was one of the saturdays that they spended together, with Jisoo, Jeonghan and Seungcheol sprawled all over Hansol and Minghao's couch, and the latter, Junhui, Wonwoo and Mingyu watching a movie, eating as if their lives depended on it, while Chan and Jihoon were talking about something with Hansol._

 

_A peaceful afternoon… that brutally ended when Seokmin and Soonyoung almost destroyed the door, screaming something like "WE GOT A LUIGI BOARD, CAN WE PLAY WITH THE LUIGI BOARD??" as they entered scaring the living shit out of Jeonghan and Mingyu._

_«It's ouija board, you dumbass.» Jihoon sighed, looking at Soonyoung's puppy eyes and slapping his forehead with his right hand.  «And wow, you really wanna do something like that? I mean, the ouija board is something serious, you really wanna mess with spirits?» Jeonghan added, wrinkling his nose as he tried to calm himself._

 

_«Yep.» Soonyoung said._

 

_«Absolutely.» Seokmin agreed._

 

_«Whatever.» Jihoon groaned, looking at Seungcheol, who just shrugged and started cuddling a pouty Jeonghan, his other hand patting Jisoo's head._

 

_And then, ten minutes later, they were all sitting on the carpet in a circle, looking at the old wooden board and the crystal glass on it. The wood was of a darkish brown, letters written in black paint. The little skulls all over the board were painted in a faint golden, some scratches in the corner revealing its old age. It reminded Hansol of one of those boards used in B series horror movies... But that was real, and they weren't in a movie._

 

_The lights were off, black vanilla scented candles creating a creepy atmosphere. Chan was almost trembling, the poor boy, squished between Wonwoo and Junhui, who tried to calm and soothe him. Hansol was looking at them, resting his head on Minghao's shoulder. He sighed._

_«So… what are we gonna do?» Hansol asked, then, his voice a little bit skeptical. «Call a random dead guy's name or something like that?»_

 

_The boy flinched when Seokmin smacked his back, and rolled his eyes as the elder started talking about "putting our index on the glass and asking questions like 'pineapple on pizza, yay or nay?' or 'are traps gay?'"._

_They did put their fingers on the glass, at the end, waiting for a little - then Soonyoung cleared his throat, closed his eyes and started talking._

 

_«Hey! Look, we aren't… you know, the most expert guys in things like this. So, first of all, are you there? Please, say yes! I know you can do it! Tell us!»_

 

_«Please do it, or he's gonna do puppy eyes or stuff like that /again/ and I'm gonna puke.» Minghao barked, smiling after a few seconds at Soonyoung, who pouted._

 

_They waited a little more, and Hansol was already calling bullshit over all the ouija stuff; but then the glass started moving, and Chan almost fainted (the same went for Mingyu, but that was a secret. Hansol still mocks him for that even after a month)._

 

_«Guys, it's moving!» Soonyoung squealed, delighted, following the glass with a big smile plastered on his face._

_The sound of the glass shifting on the wood is harsh, and Hansol shivered while following it with his gaze._

 

_He was wrong, oh sweet Lord, he had messed up so bad. At least he hadn't called bullshit out loud! But he really was sure nothing was going to happen, and now he was scared as hell. Hansol couldn't stop thinking about the fact that the phantom just wanted to warn him... or, why not, jinx him. But he tried to keep a straight face, to show the others that no, he wasn't afraid-- but guess what, he really was. Shift after shift, the ghost was trying to communicate with them, and they were all muttering the letters while the glass was on them._

 

_N - E - V - E - R._

 

_Yeah, but never what? "Never mess with me"? " Never do stuff like that"?  "Never think / call bullshit on sessions of ouija"?_

 

_Junhui was amazed, smiling like a child in front of a candy store, and the same went for Jihoon, Wonwoo and Seungcheol. Chan looked as if he just wanted to go away, along with Mingyu. Meanwhile Seokmin and Soonyoung were a screaming and giggling mess, because "holy shit, it's working!". Jisoo and Jeonghan were sitting there, in silence, their mouth open in a little "o" and their fingers laced: if they were going to die, they were doing it together, right?_

 

_G - O - N - N - A._

 

_Yeah, dying. Hansol was pretty sure he was gonna die that day, killed by a spirit. Not a great death, he thought, but at least he had lived a great life. Short, but awesome._

_G - I - V - E._

 

_The glass shifted again, creating a new phrase and  Hansol just wanted to burn that damn board, realization hitting him like a train. It can't be…_

_Y - O - U_

 

_«...up,» he muttered, a little bit shocked, as the last two letters were written on the board. Shocked, yes, yet amused. «This fucking ghost just rickrolled us.»_

 

_Minghao laughed and dabbed, almost hitting Seokmin, and the rest of the group just booed. All of them but Hansol, who was now the one giggling, and Jisoo, who was looking at the board._

 

_«Well, at least we know he's here... Or she? They? Could you tell us?» Jisoo asked, smiling and secretly hoping the spirit could see that yes, they were in a friendly environment, and that they could be themselves. The glass was moving again, 'writing' new things at the speed of light, and now it was Chan who was speaking, a little bit less nervous than the start, as he read what the ghost had written._

 

_«Ok, Mr. Boo Seungkwan, I'll stop being, as you said, 'so damn nervous omg take a grip I'm not going to eat you'. But it's not my fault if it's the first time that I talk with a dead guy!»_

 

_All of the boys were laughing, and, half an hour later they already knew a lot of stuff about the ghost. Boo Seungkwan, born in 1998 (“He's the same age of yours, Hansol!") in Jeju, drowned in 2016 during a summer camp. He loved singing, hamburgers and food in general. His favourite sport was basketball, but he played volleyball. And he hated being dead._

 

_«But since you are here we can say that... yeah, Seungkwan, you are alive for us. I mean, you can stop using past tense.» Seungcheol suggested, and Jeonghan nodded at the older's words. «You are totally one of our friends! Think of yourself as a part of our big family, ok? » he added, then, smiling fondly._

 

( ... )

 

So, basically, that's how all of them became friends with a ghost. Even if it's hard, when your only way of communication is an old ouija board.

 

Yes, they can feel when he's with them: when the air is slightly colder, Seungkwan is there, watching over them and trying to communicate. Or at least that's what Hansol's thinks. Because, funny thing, he's the only one who can sense the poor ghost. The only one who feels the light breeze that Seungkwan produces when he's moving, he's the only one who feels Seungkwan's hand on his shoulder after a long day at work. He even asked the others, explaining his situation... still, the answer was always the same: "What are you talking about? I don't feel anything!"

 

And he's surprised. He was the non believer, the skeptical, the day when they first summoned the boy, then why is he the 'lucky one'? Karma is a bitch, he thinks, stripping and wearing an oversized white shirt as a pajama... realizing only a few seconds later that Seungkwan might have seen his almost naked body. Oh fuck. Oh fuck indeed: that familiar breeze is caressing his body, and Hansol is embarrassed. A lot.

 

His cheeks are flushing red, the realization hitting him like a train and the urge to speak with the phantom a lot stronger than before. Let's get things straight: Hansol's not a prude, he's done plenty of things with plenty of people in his short life-- but the 'take off your clothes' part of those 'things' always made his blood rush to his face.

 

«Seungkwan?» he murmurs, blinking a few times and gulping. «Can you show yourself? I don't have the board right now, it's in Minghao's room and I'm pretty sure he's sleeping with Junhui... or doing stuff. Couple stuff. I guess you know what couples do nowadays, even without the marriage-- but yeah, can you show yourself? Pretty please?»

 

He's aware of the fact that Seungkwan can't physically appear, that he's a ghost and ghosts can't talk, but he knows that the boy is ( was? ) strong, and so is his energy. Proof of that, the white pencil who levitates a few seconds after Hansol's request and, after that, starts writing all over the black walls of Hansol's room.

 

_"yea, i'm here, u mad?"_

 

«...Now that you scribbled all over the walls, yes, a little bit. Now I have to erase that-- shame on you!» Hansol whines, and he's pretty sure that he can hear a faint laugh: is it Minghao, who's listening to the whole thing through the walls... or is it Seungkwan? He doesn't know, probably never will, but thinking about the young ghost being able to laugh at him makes his insides twist a bit. What can he really do? He can make things levitate, move them and now he can laugh: a lot of stuff, for a ghost, he thinks.

 

 _" shame my ass, chwe hansol"_ Seungkwan writes, and Hansol pouts.

_" and talking about ass, damn son, you have a good one "_

 

Hansol's pout suddenly becomes a mask of pure terror, and it's just a lucky coincidence that he doesn't scream, just because a sleepy Junhui walks in the room, looks at him, at the wall and then at the white pencil. The chinese boy just blinks a few times, murmuring a "Let him sleep, Seungkwan" and going away.

 

Strange thing, Junhui was smiling, but... it was a weird smile. Not the "oh, cute" smile, it was more like a feline smile, that made him look like a cat, more than he often does. And were his eyes.. Gold? Screw that, Hansol thinks, looking at the pencil that now's falling and going straight to bed, his eyes closing already.

 

«Good night, Seungkwan.» Hansol murmurs, his voice raspy because of the tiredness. He's pretty sure that he can feel a gentle hand caressing his hair-- but he's so tired to discover who was it. It may be Seungkwan, it may not. But Hansol is already asleep when the pencil levitates again, scribbling another few words on the wall.

 

_" goodnight hansol, sleep well "_


	2. Of water and ashes.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The sea is a beautiful pale blue, shining a little bit and seemingly calm. It looks like a mirror hit by a ray of sunshine, and a little bit of fear just runs away: how can something possibly go wrong?  
> He repeats that phrase like a mantra, step after step, finally stopping after reaching the edge. Then he closes his eyes.  
> And he jumps.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GUESS WHAT?? oh yea, new chapter  
> EARLIER THAN I TOUGHT OMG look at me i'm so good!!  
> next time i will link you all the music that inspired me during the writing (if you want oh my god just tell me)!!  
> have a little sneak peek
> 
>  
> 
> [Taichi Mukai - Wonderland](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=duKRgmenAcA)
> 
>  
> 
> *flies away

_Around him there are a lot of kids. Different people with skins of different colours, lots of faces and cheerful squeals, the sound of the sea in the background. He doesn't know anyone of them, but he likes it, it's delightful: he feels at peace, calm and even a little bit excited. But how can you not be excited when you’re at the beach? Especially if you love water._  
_The sky is a beautiful rose quartz because of the dawning sun, little sprinkles of serenity here and there: the only whiteness are the seagulls, nothing more._  
_He's sure that he's smiling, he knows that: he's just as the other boys and girls, who now are surrounding him._  
_At  first, they smile, but then their smiles become mischievous grins, and a little girl with red ponytails walks in front of him, crossing her arms and slightly tilting her head._  
_" I bet you can't jump off the cliff, --" she teases him, but.. But he can't hear the name that she said, his name; her mouth was unfocused, glitched like a videogame: even the sound she made was strange, a loud screech that made him flinch._  
_He gulps, mutters something like 'I won't do it, it's too dangerous' because yes, it is dangerous, deadly if we want-- but they’re just kids, he thinks. They can't understand. That's why they start booing at him, calling him a chicken and calling him a coward. But he isn't a coward, he's just smart enough to know that jumping from a cliff like that might kill him. How the hell can they not understand that?_  
_A cold shiver runs down his back as he watches the small crowd around him, and with all the bravery left in his body he just screams._  
_«Ok, I'll do it!»_  
_And the kids just scream back, delighted noises mixed with glitched squeals, his brain becoming jelly after a few seconds of that cacophony. They’re calling his name, but what Is his real name? He can't remember._  
_The only thing he knows is that his body's moving mechanically in between the children, fear flowing in his body as if it was blood: the end of the cliff is higher than he expected, and damn it-- should he really jump? Should he do it? His pride's already bruised, fault of the row near the shore, if he doesn't do it they will mock him for the entire month. He's forced to._  
_The sea is a beautiful pale blue, shining a little bit and seemingly calm. It looks like a mirror hit by a ray of sunshine, and a little bit of fear just runs away: how can something possibly go wrong?_  
_He repeats that phrase like a mantra, step after step, finally stopping after reaching the edge. Then he closes his eyes._  
_And he jumps._  
  
  
The scream left his body in a harsh way, Hansol can say that, seen as his throat hurts. He needs a glass of water, he needs to calm himself. What the hell was that nightmare? Because yes, it was a nightmare, a pretty scary one. He feels the wind in his hair as he falls down the cliff even if he’s awake, the glitched noises still in his head. Just like when he was falling down the cliff, he feels the wind in his hair even now that he’s awake, the glitched noises still in his head.  
Yes, he’s scared, a little bit, and the “sleep well” written on the walls just makes his skin crawl. Junhui and Minghao must have heard him, though, because when he jumps out of the bed (and almost falls, that dork) he finds a tray with a cup of tea and a cupcake on his desk, near the white pencil.  
The only thing that’s written on the wall is that goddamned “sleep well”, the other things erased-- like if it was magic. Or a ghost.

  
Sometimes thinking that you’re friends with a ghost is hard, and it’s harder knowing you’re the only one that can feel him.  
Or maybe not.

  
Because Junhui said something about Seungkwan being there and leaving him alone, and Hansol was pretty sure he was the only one that could sense the poor phantom.  
But apparently he was wrong.  
He has a lot of questions for the elder but, unfortunately, he has to save them for later: work's calling and he has to be at the flower shop in like.. 20 minutes. He’s hella late. But, despite that, he still has the time to bring with him a little notebook and a pen, in case Seungkwan wants to talk with him.. if he’s really there with him.  
  
Hansol doesn’t really know how ghosts work: do they follow one person in particular or can they go  with more than one poor soul? Are they hungry? How can they communicate with other people, alive or not? Because now that he’s been talking’ with Seungkwan for almost four months, he’s conscious of the fact that yeah, ghosts exist, and probably there are a shit ton of spectres around him, trying to communicate with their significant others, their sons or, why not, their owners (Chwe Vernon Hansol is absolutely confident about the fact that dogs, cats and every other animal go to heaven when they are dead).. and can’t. Because they haven’t been summoned through a ritual or stuff like that, and so they’re cursed to stay like that, wanderers in a world that can’t hear or see them. Technically, even Hansol can’t hear Seungkwan, but that’s another story.  
Thinking about it makes Hansol sad: he’s so lucky, yet he can’t help all the people who have lost someone.  
  
He sips his chocolate milkshake, sitting behind the counter and staring at the plants and flowers. A sleepy frown appears on his face as those dark thoughts float in his mind still-- frown that disappears when the pen starts floating and yes, starts writing on the notebook.  
  
_“why that long face, you are not a horse_  
_-sk“_  
  
The little sad face that Seungkwan draws makes Hansol exhale softly: how can he understand? Simply, he can’t. Mostly because Hansol hasn’t explained a single thing to Seungkwan ( can ghosts read minds? He hopes so), but also because he doesn’t think that a dead being is aware of that burden.  
  
«I know, but-- I’m just thinking. » Hansol murmurs, ruffling his own hair and sitting on the chair behind the counter, at the same time an “ _about what”_ appears under the previous writing. Ok, ghosts can’t read other people’s minds, proved.  
  
_«It’s complicated.»_  
  
_“bullshit, algebra is complicated, studying Hegel is even worse, your thoughts are not complicated, so spare me all the whiny stuff and talk to me: don’t be crabby”_  
  
Hansol huffs, then, crossing his arms on his chest and wrinkling his nose: he’s not whiny, he’s never been whiny in all his life and then, a little ghost, starts calling him and his ideas whiny.  
  
«First of all,» he starts, rising his voice a little bit and raising an eyebrow, pouting too, because why not. «I’m not crabby or whiny. Second, I can’t talk with you right now--»  
  
_“why not? scared, potter?”_  
  
«I’m not scared. Why should I be scared? But a customer may come into this fucking store right now and he or they could hear me talking with, guess who: no one. Because I’m the only one that knows you’re right there with us, Seungkwan, even I want to yell to the others that you’re with me.»  
  
_“.. you got me there”_ and the pen falls to the desk as Hansol rises from his ugly chair, reaching a little vase of zinnias, to water them. Zinnias are a symbol of nostalgia, and Hansol feels pretty nostalgic for Seungkwan (that now is probably gone, still wandering in the shop but not trying to ’talk’ with him), for his loved ones and for the other tons of souls around him.  
He sighs again, breathing out loudly and smiles at the old lady that enters in the store, asking him for a vase of golden chain.  
  
«It’s for my daughter in law: you know, she just had a child...»  
  
  
  
  
The rest of the day wasn’t as hard as Hansol expected, considering the number of customers that entered the flower mart (a very little number, no one wants to give flowers to someone, nowadays); still, he’s really tired and really really wants to eat something and simply go to sleep.  
However, as he enters his small flat, he sees a.. book? That’s floating in a strange glowing (and smelling of flowers) cloud? Hell, why can’t he have a ordinary day? One in a month? He has listened plenty to Welcome to Nightvale to know that glowing clouds are a bad thing (all hail, all hail.)  
  
He glares suspiciously at the tome, approaching it and inspecting it in the most careful way possible. The cover and the spine are a pitch black, dark as a moonless night and covered in silver characters that the poor boy doesn’t recognize at first glance: it may be chinese or japanese, but surely not english or korean. Shiny stones of bright colours are setted in various places, and alongside them Hansol can see various scratches on both the cover and the back and, in the spine, a tiny flower painted in silver.  
  
He’s clueless, and doesn’t want to touch the book: he’s already jinxed by life, another curse could destroy his already ruined and sad days!  
Hansol gulps, murmuring a faint “Seungkwan”, pretty sure that the culprit of this sorcery is the poor spectre-- but, as the latter didn’t answer, he just swallows his own saliva and makes himself as small as possible.  
Ok, he’s pretty scared (read as, really scared, so scared that he could start crying in that exact moment), today is a pretty spoopy and scary day, but curiosity killed the cat and yeah, Hansol just approaches the book even more and looks at it another time.  
The pages are a pearly white, almost shiny, a beautiful contrast with the darkness of the pages  of the cover and really, Hansol wants to open it, read what’s written on it-- but then the glowing cloud disappears and the book falls down on the table with a loud thud.  
  
If confusion could be a person, that would absolutely be Hansol: his lips are parted in a large “o” and his eyes are open wide in the most comical way possible. He looks like a comics book character, but who cares? He has just seen a black book levitate, he doesn’t even know what the hell is its  usefulness-- his comic worthy astonishment is utterly justified.  
He feels like Jihoon when Soonyoung tries to kiss or hug him in public, or simply when Soonyoung does something: tired of all this bullshit. And, because of that, he decides to get a cold shower and order something on the phone (probably japanese, he craves sushi and he’s weak), chilling on the sofa while waiting. A pretty good plan, isn’t it?  
  
The traveling to the bathroom isn’t very long, same for the stripping process which lasts almost five seconds; he throws away his clothes, watching as they become a messy and dirty pile with a faint smile on his face. He still smells of flowers and dirt, and the only thought that his mind plays in repeat is ‘I need to take a shower as fast as I can'.  
The last thing he does before turning the water on  is search for a nice playlist on Spotify, stretching his limbs and waiting patiently for a good temperature: he’s pretty sensitive, poor boy, and hell!, burning himself with hot water is a pretty stupid thing, a thing that Mingyu would surely do-- and Hansol, luckily, is no Mingyu (it’s a rather cruel habit teasing Mingyu for being a big ass dork, but Hansol knows that the elder is as smart as all of them, even more so if we count his abilities with manual work) .  
  
The boy yawns as he lets the water pour, going straight under the water’s spray and sighs in relief, closing his eyes and singing along the tune, scoffing softly because yeah, he’s pretty bad: but no one can hear him, right? Minghao is out for work, Junhui is probably with him, the other guys are in their homes, probably, or at Minghao’s bar or something like that: he can scream Jessi’s Gucci without fear of being judged, and the thing makes him a lot happier than before.  
At least, this is what he thought.. Again.  
  
«Dear lord, stop singing-- you make my ears bleed!» a sassy and whiny voice screams, and Hansol gets the umpteenth heart attack of the day.  
«For fuck’s sake- Hansol, I swear to God: if you don’t stop I’m gonna whoop your sorry ass for ages!»  
  
Hansol is pretty startled, he has to admit that, and it takes a little bit for him to open one of his eyes, the other following a little after. It gets worse when he sees.. Or, well, he doesn’t see anyone. Again.  
  
«… The hell..?» he murmurs, his legs wobbly and feeling the urge of sitting down.  
His eyes, ears and brain are playing some trick on him, surely: first that damned floating book and the glowing cloud, then that squeaky voice. And was that a faint smell of Zinnias and Golden chain? Hansol works with flowers, he’s sure that when he heard the voice he also smelt the flowers-- but he hadn’t brought home any of them! Also, it can’t be him, seen as the water and the soap that’s on his body: it is chocolate flavoured (yes, Hansol loves that kind of soap) and flowers don’t smell of chocolate.  
  
He needs a doctor, he needs a fucking doctor or a psychiatrist or something like that.  
Or, why not, an exorcism: he can sense ghosts, talk with them, he hears voices and sees shiny clouds and dark and probably wicked books. Maybe one of them can help him, he thinks, maybe one exorcism can bring his life back to a normal setting, without any stranger thing or something like that. Or maybe the exorcists will be too scared to do all the.. Spiritual stuff.  
He still considers that idea as he opens the water again, shivering a little when the now cold spray hits his body, watching as the few bubbles fall down on the blue tiles of the shower and looking for a towel as he exits.  
  
Hansol’s still shocked as he dries his hair, and almost faints (again) when he looks at the mirror: the foggy surface has a little “nice booty mr chwe” written on, and now Hansol’s sure about who spoke five minutes ago.  
  
«Boo Seungkwan-- the fuck!?» he squeaks, looking for his clothes and feeling his face heating as if the flames of hell themselves were in his body, trying to reach his pure core. «First of all-- why could  I hear you? Second, the book-- was it you? The little flying and glowing stuff, I mean. And lastly.. oH MY GOD CAN YOU STOP CHECKING OUT MY BUTT?»  
  
He huffs a little, wearing an oversized t-shirt and a pair of boxers as a pajama, ruffling his hair with the previous towel and checking the mirror as he dries them: a list appears slowly, first a “one”, then a “two” and a “three”. Probably Seungkwan wants to reply in order, probably not, but the only thing that he can do, now, is wait.

  
A little “no” appears under the number two, same thing for the number three, with the addition of a winky face (and Hansol grunts, a little bit pissed and embarrassed, seen as his red ears), but when it comes for the first point of the list, the reply is a little bit longer than the other twos.  
  
_“i don’t know why you heard me, usually i talk with you a lot and?? you don't hear me?? but now you did it and does that mean that you can hear ghosts? that's pretty rad ”_  
  
Sad thing: Hansol can’t hear ghosts, the previous thing was absolute luck and the way Hansol whispers “I can’t, Seungkwan, I’m sorry” is probably the saddest one. He’s really unhappy about the whole situation, but it isn’t his fault, not this time: he wasn’t born with superpowers, although it would be super cool-- so, he can’t really listen to them.  
  
«I’m no Melinda Gordon or whatever: I’m just.. Me.»  
  
“ oh, don’t worry then, maybe you’ll hear me another time, i guess? so you can be melinda ”  
  
«Yeah, sure: let’s be positive, am I right? Of course I am.»  
  
And then he goes out, in the living room, hopping on his couch and dialing his favourite japanese restaurant’s number, closing his eyes and waiting patiently.  
Meanwhile he thinks. He thinks about all the things that happened that day, the smell of flowers when he heard Seungkwan, the flower on the cover and all the coincidences. But a single thought is impressed in his mind: Junhui.  
He wasn’t screaming at the ghost when the elder entered in his room, and he surely hadn’t seen the pen when it was writing: how could have he known that Seungkwan was in his room?  
  
The bell rings almost immediately (wow, are home deliveries that fast?) and Hansol jumps off the couch, mutters a “ ‘m coming” and takes his wallet, going straight to the door. He opens, then.. Finding in front of him a strange guy.  
Short, grumpy, black hair and black clothes: his face reminds him of a porcelain doll, his pouty lips are absolutely cute and his eyes seem so.. Dangerous? They are glowing like Junhui’s last night. They remind him of the eyes of a fox, and-- is that a calico cat behind him?  
  
«Yah-- where’s that human disaster called Wen Junhui?» the stranger deadpans, making his way inside the flat and sighing, with the small cat following him and mewling softly, purring as he jumps over the table and touches the book with his paw.  
  
«He-- he’s not there.» Hansol mutters, looking at the stranger as he sits on a chair. The small man is looking at him dead in the eye, and a cold shiver runs down his back: who is he really?  
  
«I’m sorry but you have to leave. This is not your house and-- »  
  
«Shut up, brat: I’m waiting for a friend. And Jiminie, sunshine-- please, stop playing with that vase of flowers: they’re as fake as my smile during the meetings.»  
  
His jaw drops as the cat meows back at the stranger, who’s now scoffing and.. Oh God, is he really lighting a cigarette right there?  
  
«Hey, stop-- you can’t--»  
  
«And who’s going to stop me? You?» the stranger scoffs again, looking at the cat who’s now on his lap, purring in the loudest way possible. «Don’t make me laugh, boy: I could knock you out right now if I wanted.»  
  
«I-- I will call the police!» Hansol shouts, but the stranger does a suspicious thing: he covers the cat’s mouth and blows a handful of grey powder, probably ash.  
And Hansol just faints, the glowing eyes of the stranger as the only thing that he sees before falling on the ground.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OH GOSH OH SNAP LOOK AT THEM GO 
> 
> i guess you already know who the new boi and his smol cat are, but who care
> 
> LET'S TALK ABOUT WEN JUNHUI MHHMHH HE'S SO SUSPICIOUS 
> 
> poor hansol he's like dante alighieri: he likes to faint  
> a lot
> 
> ( btw, i'm thinking about updating every 15 days?? because i'm writing a lot even when i'm in school, as a pratice for my english, so... ENJOY AND DON0T KILL ME IF I POST LATE I'M A POOR HUMAN BEING, I'M STRESSED DEPRESSED AND NOT EVEN WELL DRESSED )
> 
> if you want to hit me up you can do it on twitter! let's talk, i really like talking with people ( i'm so lonely let's be friends )  
> [Taengememe](https://twitter.com/taengememe)


	3. Of shapeshifters and flowers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He’s always loved water, but he’s starting to hate it.  
> Why, we’d say, why would he start to hate water after such a long time? Maybe it’s just simple aversion, a strange feeling of nausea- or fear.  
> How is it possible to not be afraid while you are drowning?

_The feeling of the water on his skin has always been pleasing, for him. The wetness of the clothes, the little droplets of liquid running down his hair: a blissful experience, one of the favourite things in his whole life. He doesn’t remember a lot of things, but he knows a few things: he’s eighteen, his life is pretty short, and he’s aware of the fact that he could face a lot of new experiences, all better than the cold and moist sensation on his body._ __  
_He’s always loved water, but he’s starting to hate it._ __  
_Why, we’d say, why would he start to hate water after such a long time? Maybe it’s just simple aversion, a strange feeling of nausea- or fear._ __  
_How is it possible to not be afraid while you are drowning?_ __  
__  
_Something went utterly wrong when he had landed, all the air had escaped from his lungs as his whole body had hit the icy water, and now he was going down._ __  
_Eyes still open, mouth slightly parted agap, a burning pain flaring in his whole body; he can’t move in a proper way, he can’t breathe. He can’t do barely anything, only struggle and try to swim and reach the surface. He screams, but in the depth of the sea no one could ever hear him._ __  
__  
_His limbs are engulfed by the water, every movement is slow, everything is so, so painful, and he’s really trying: trying to save his own life, trying everything he can because he will not just die. He hasn’t experienced a lot of things, never had a first kiss or a relationship; he hasn’t flown away from his country, there's still a lot of stuff he wants to do. He’s so young, so reckless... But he’s not ok with his current situation: this is not the day of his death and the sea will not be his deathbed._ __  
_So he moves again, the last bits of air escaping from his mouth as he wiggles his whole body in a survival instinct, swimming and swimming. He’s almost there, he’s almost done-- but he feels so weak, and his last attempts are as feeble as him: now he’s sure he’s going to die right there, surrounded by the element that he loves the most._ __  
__  
__  
_He surrenders slowly: first he stops his legs, then his arms and lets himself drown in the cold waters. The feeling of the salty water entering in his lungs is horrible, a burning sensation that runs down his chest and, shortly after, along all his body._ __  
_If he ever could turn back time he’d tell his family that he loved them, apologize for causing any kind of trouble and, why not, kiss his big sister on her cheek. And even though he wanted to have any kind of relationship, platonic or even romantic, probably, the only kind of remorse that he has right now is that he hasn’t made one of his parents proud: his father has never told him that he was proud of him, same for his mother, but how could he make someone proud, if he’s dead?_ __  
_Simple: he can’t._ __  
_He smiles as he closes his eyes, because his smile was one of his sister’s favourite things._ __  
_The last thing he wants to do is make his sister happy._ __  
__  
__  
__  
__  
The first thing Hansol hears as he recovers his senses is a cacophony of sounds: one or two cats meowing, various men talking, one of them seeming pretty worried. He doesn’t even know how he swooned, neither how he ended over the couch with a warm blanket all over his body and a faint weight on his belly.  
  
«He did that again, gē , it’s the third time this week, I don’t know what to do!» someone squeals, and moments later another voice, deeper than the first one, groans.  
He recognizes that tone, but now he’s still too dizzy to open his eyes and discover who the hell is in his house (is he really in his house or did those strangers kidnap him?)-- and while Hansol thinks about the voice, the weight shifts and moves near his face, placing a.. paw on his nose. Ok, now he’s sure about the whole ‘cat’ thing.   
  
  
«Are you telling me that even if you are feeding him Impatiens, he’s still screaming during his dreams?» a deep voice barks, a little bit pissed, and.. how the hell did he know?  
  
  
He shifts a little, trying to face the strangers with his body, eyes still closed. But the feline meows, a loud and high pitched sound that seems to make both the unknown males focus on them, and Hansol flinches, opening one of his eyes and wrinkling his nose as the cat puts again its paw on his nose, making him sneeze. Well, at least now they are aware of him.  
  
Junhui is the first person that he sees as he opens both of his eyes, the grumpy man placed at his left, holding his cat into his arms and slowly petting him.  
Now that he’s awake he can study him better than before: the stranger’s eyes, unlike those of the chinese boy are still as flashy as before, a strange shade of gold that compliments his dark eyes and makes him look more dangerous than he probably is.   
  
The stranger looks so young, his face a pale shade of pink, as if it was made of pure ceramic.   
His pouty lips are of a darker shade, who contrasts in a beautiful way with the fairness of his skin, and his cheeks are as rosy as a peach, like the rounded tip of his nose. He looks like some kind of doll or odd fairy, but the frown on his face is way too angry for such a joyful being such as a pixie: a kitsune, (or, why not, a nogitsune) could resemble him in the perfect way because of his facial features, if he was a supernatural being.   
The incomer is objectively beautiful, a little bit taller than Jihoon, but smaller than Chan and Jeonghan, even though his hands are big, with fingers covered in thin silver rings with small shiny stones... and oh, are those tattoos? He’s too far from his eyesight, but Hansol can spot a few letters in some kind of foreign language running down his index and end on his wrist, as if it was some kind of bracelet.  
He looks a lot like the cat he’s holding, but there is a hidden something that makes him look way much feral and frightening than the little animal.  
As Hansol continues to observe his friend and oriental-John-Doe, the calico cat jumps down his owner's arms, running straight to the other cat-- and Hansol, who’s still confused, suddenly notices a little thing: the frightening man has the same necklace as Junhui.  
  
  
The two pendants both look the same, a golden locket with thin, black ornaments on it, all over its oval shape: they looked like one of those old watches, the kind you could bring with you everywhere... but Junhui had never used his to look at the time (indeed, he had always asked others, before fleeing because of his studies, as he says). Probably the only difference is the little flower carved on the golden surface of the stranger's medallion, that, unlike Junhui's (a stylized Granny nightcap, he thinks), is a pretty poppy painted in silver, a beautiful contrast indeed. It’s a work of art, and Hansol could stare at the jewel for another hour, admiring it-- but the calico cat jumps in front of him, licking at his nose.  
  
  
«Yeah, Jimin, we know he’s awake.» John Doe deadpans, wrinkling his nose as the cat snuggles into the covers, near his fellow feline. «And you, Sleeping Beauty, stop staring at me: I feel uncomfortable.»   
  
«Please, Yoongi-gē, he’s already scared and uneasy, could you stop making him uncomf--»  
  
«Shut up, Wen Junhui, and don’t “gē” me trying to make me soft: I’m not soft, you are.»  
  
«Liar.» an unknown voice squeaks, and Hansol is really, really confused about the whole situation: there are only three people in the room, who the hell has talked?   
  
«You are so soft for me, Yoongi hyung, you little burnt marshmallow.»   
Hansol looks around as much as he can, a little bewildered, parting shyly his lips and searching for the source of the previous sound: John Doe (or should he call him Yoongi? He’s still not sure) has a really raspy and deep voice, not a cheerful one, and Junhui.. well, he's known the chinese boy for almost four years, he should recognize his voice.  
  
He gulps, a little bit startled as he tries to collect all his ideas: so, he’s with an old friend, a strange grumpy and tattooed guy and two cats, he saw a floating book almost one hour ago and he talks with a ghost on a daily basis, so, in his life, everything is possible.  
  
He opens his eyes comically wide as a thought hits him like a train, turning his head first to the calico cat, then to the other two men standing in front of him, his voice a mere whisper as he talks.  
  
«The calico cat. Jimin-- Jimin talked. Oh my God.»  
  
A cheerful and delighted laugh flees out the cat’s mouth, and the thing that happens a few seconds later leaves him a little bit astonished (the fifth time in the last four hours): as he jumps down the couch, his body shift, mutating in a slender shape of a man. Hansol always imagined all the metamorphosys as a mystical thing, with the person concerned changing his shape in a cloud of glitter or flower petals or stuff like that-- but Jimin shifted in a simple way, without any scenographic effects or stuff like that: first he was a cat, now he’s a boy, period.  
  
Blond hair complimenting his face, bright eyes and plumped lips curved in a smile that makes Hansol want to smile as well, seen as the expression of pure joy and amusement plastered on his face. Jimin irradiates calm, and now Hansol knows why Yoongi called him “sunshine”.  
But, more importantly, Jimin is naked. And Hansol chokes a scream.  
  
  
« I’m sorry that you have to see me like this for the first time ever-- » Jimin mutters, reaching for a blanket with his hand and covering his body with it. His cheeks are a faint rose, unlike Hansol’s: they are as red as a ripe cherry (and he’s pretty sure that Seungkwan could have laughed and called him “a prude” if he was in the room). « But I wanted to say “hello” properly: you know, Minghao and Junhui always talk about you and now they’re quite worried about the whole “screaming while you are sleeping” situation.»  
  
  
« Oh, that’s.. cute?» Hansol says, looking at a smiling Junhui: dang, the chinese boy looks so proud about this, and Hansol’s heart flutters a bit. Not because of romantic feelings.. just, it feels great to have friends like him, that always care.   
  
«And do-- do you want some clothes? You are almost my height, I could lend you some.. stuff,» he mutters, then, picking up the other cat and placing him on the cushion at his right. The icy glance that Yoongi sends him make his skin crawl, but the presence of Junhui makes him feel a little bit more calm: maybe he could ask some explanations... couldn’t he?  
  
  
« Hyung-- Junhui hyung, could you prepare some tea as I bring some clothes to our guest?» he asks, smiling at the elder’s nod and disappearing in his room.  
  
Now, the situation is a mess, but Jimin and, in a major way, Yoongi, could help him with Seungkwan too, not only with the nightmares thing: their bond is a strange one, but Hansol just wants to see him, even if he could not touch him.   
So, along with the clothes and the underwear, he brings his little notebook and runs straight to the living room, giving his clothes to the poor Jimin, who smiles fondly at him and murmurs a “thank you” as he heads for the bathroom.   
  
The teapot is whistling, and Hansol sits near Junhui, patting his shoulder and reaching for his empty cup. Maybe he should start paying more attention to his friend, to his surroundings: a lot of things happened near him and he’s too unfocused, already thinking about what will happen in the future. He should live more in the moment.. also because Minghao is in the same room and he hasn’t noticed him.. but the other cat is not there.  
  
«… For the love of God and all that holy stuff, Wen Junhui, please tell me that the other cat is not Minghao. Please, tell me.»  
  
  
  
« ..What if I do?» Junhui murmurs, serving the tea and patting Minghao’s head, trying to soothe him: he looks a little bit.. awkward. Yoongi just scoffs, smiling a little bit as Jimin comes back from the bathroom and sits in his lap, sipping the hot beverage in the most silent way possible.  
  
  
  
«Then you are a furry, hyung. Same for you, Yoongi-ssi.» Hansol says, and Jimin spits his tea all over the table, a few droplets running down his chin. Oh, maybe he shouldn’t have said that.  
The silence is awkward after that statement, but then Minghao laughs and so do Junhui and Jimin. Yoongi smiles again, this time more genuinely, revealing his gums and-- yeah, that smile is cute as hell, he must admit it.  
  
  
  
«Hell no, boy, not a furry. Never was a furry, never will be.» Junhui says, wiping off a tear and caressing Minghao’s hand with his free hand, smiling at an astonished Hansol, who just nods and cleans the table with a tissue. «Minghao is not a real cat, same for Jimin-gē: they are.. shapeshifters, kinda. They are our familiars. Me and Yoongi-gē are sorcerers, wizards, Harry Potter but without Hogwarts or stuff like that.»   
  
  
  
Hansol is a little bit surprised (if you are not surprised when you discover that your best friend is a shapeshifter and your best friend’s boyfriend is a sorcerer.. well, you are weird) about the whole thing, but nods again and clears his throat, looking at Junhui with genuinely interested eyes and a soft smile printed on his face. He turns his head to Minghao too, then, as a way of saying “hey, I love you no matter what” and the shapeshifter smiles, as the previous awkwardness has disappeared. He surely will talk to him after that kind of meeting-- but the notebook opens and the pen floats, and Seungkwan writes. __  
__  
__  
_  
___“ hey!! i’m here, i’m the ‘ghost’ that torments hansol or whatevs, mr sorcerers could you help me? pretty please i’m a good person i did not do any harm to him, just, please, i wanna become a tangible entity even for a little span of time :(( -sk ”

 __  
«Yeah, I know, I can see you Seungkwannie!» Junhui chirps, his eyes starting to glow with the usual golden light and a little smile appearing on his face. «And what a weird way to hold a pen.. You‘ve always done it like this? Or did you start doing it after the.. death thing?»   
  
So he was right: Junhui could really see Seungkwan! But could he really see all the ghosts in the room? In the world? Hansol hums, laughing lightly at the picture of Seungkwan’s face after that revelation, picking the pen as it falls down: perhaps that’s the first time that the poor spirit has find someone who could see him, and the thought of it makes Hansol feel conflicted. He’s happy about it (Seungkwan is surely cheering, screaming or stuff like that), but.. Hansol just can’t see him, not now.   
He craves to see the phantom, it’s a desire that torments him lately, and he just doesn’t know why.   
What are his features, what does he look like, are his lips plump or thin, is his nose round or not-- what does he look like? He doesn’t know, probably will not know-- but he surely wants to know everything about Seungkwan’s appearance. Ok, that’s a lie: Hansol really wants to know everything about Seungkwan. And the thing scares him a little, because he never felt curious like this, about a person. Especially a dead one.  
  
  
Hansol swallows, then sighs and takes Minghao’s hand in his own, whispering a dim “we have to talk, but don’t worry, ok?” as he gets up.  
  
  
«Junhui hyung, please, talk with Seungkwan while I’m away with Minghao. Yoongi-ssi, Jimin-ssi, it’s been a pleasure but--»  
  
  
«But what? Me and Jiminie are not going away. » Yoongi says, and Jimin smiles again, his eyes becoming a thin line and gets up, reaching for the pen and scribbling something near Seungkwan’s phrase (and Hansol isn’t a little bit annoyed, who, him? He’s absolutely chill and this is a big ass lie).   
  
«We’re actually going to stay the night here, Hansol.. and call me hyung, please! I’m not that old.»  Jimin says, then, waving at them as they go into Hansol’s room, Minghao still a little bit startled. The chinese boy breathes in and out as he sits on Hansol’s bed, staring at his feet with a look that reminds him of a kicked puppy: he just wants to calm him a little bit, because he really doesn’t have a reason to treat him badly. He just want some explanation, and their relationship is the cause of his choice: he doesn’t know Jimin and Yoongi, even though they seem a lot affidable; he knows Junhui, yeah, but not as well as Minghao.  
They've been best friends for a long time, so.. It has to be him, it has to be Minghao to explain the whole  situation. But he has to be comfortable as he does it.  
That’s why Hansol flops at his left, placing his arm on his shoulder and looking at him, a big smile plastered on his face.  
  
«Hey-- hey. Breathe, please, don’t collapse on my bed. » Hansol murmurs, soothing a trembling Minghao with small touches and soft words. «Cat or human you are my best friend. No matter what, really: don’t worry about this, I will not hurt you!» and, as a promise, he lifts his pinky, reaching Minghao’s and intertwining them.  
The following five minutes are a little chant of “don’t worry” and “I’m always here for you”, and.. it works? Because Minghao is now breathing in a proper way, his trembles stop and a faint smile appears on his face, at the same time as he says a shy “thank you”.  
Another big breath and Minghao just lays on the bed, closing his eyes and curving his lips in a smirk, in a more confident way than before-- and Hansol follows him like a puppy, looking at him in the most interested way possible.  
  
«So.. what do you want to know, huh?»

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO yeah, cliffhanger and stuff like that bUT PLEASE LOVE ME  
> ALSO  
> I'LL BE IN CAMBridge this whole week so ;; you have to wait 3 more weeks for the next upd8 i'm so sorry ;;  
> STILL  
> HOPE YOU ENJOY!!
> 
> UPD8: SCHOOL IS SUCKING MY LIFE AWAY I'M SO SORRY BUT I'M WORKING ON CHAPTER 4 PLEASE EXCUSE ME ;vv; I will post the chapter as soon as I can, excuse me again!
> 
> -Taengememe


End file.
